Skyrim One-Shots

Ulfric x Reader(Female) ~The Secrets We Kept(2)~

"Torman Stormcloak, what in the name of the gods do you presume you are doing?" you crossed your arms, eyes shooting to the new seventeen-year-old, who froze and whipped around, meeting your gaze as you leaned against the doorframe.

He forced a smile. "Mom... You look nice today."

"I know. Thank you. What's on your desk, there?"

Torman literally threw the book across the room, the book landing his fireplace. You knew what that title was- you'd have to have a very stern talk with Galmar on what exactly he should let your boys read. Not that you wanted to isolate them, no, it was that those books were unrealistic. For whomever they found to love, be them male or female, you didn't care, all you wanted was for them to avoid pregnancy and know the general things on intercourse. Tips and tricks? Absolutely not. They learn for themselves, and you'd even overheard a conversation where Hoag (the eldest twin, named adeptly after Ulfric's father who had the same temper) had cheekily asked Galmar some tricks. Least to say, the general vehemently denied the request and ran the boy to the ground for training the next morning.

You rolled your eyes. "What volume was it this time?"

"Two," he murmured.

"And what did I tell you?"

"If you caught me reading again you would ask one of the maids to... to..."

"The staff are ravenous young ladies, Torman. I would never let them have you, but in this case, I might. They are like crows, I will have you know. You've seen it, haven't you? They'd pull each other's nails off for only a bit of chit-chat with you or your brother."

"Mom, never again," he offered, a plead and a promise that you knew he wouldn't keep. You raised a brow. Boys would be boys, you supposed. You at least told them that they most certainly should not fondle the servants and especially not expect to have... interactions the same as The Argonian Maid describes.

"Either way, your brother's eating dinner. You should be eating dinner. I should be eating dinner," you stated pointedly.

"Gods, I'm hungry," he murmured. You narrowed your eyes. 

"Wash your hands first. I'll go down. Meet you at dinner."

"Uh, right," he answered, moving to the connected bathroom as a faint redness spread across his face. His hair jostled as he moved, blonde and also the exact same shade as Ulfric's. He was leaner than Hoag and often opted for slimmer swords and bows along with the occasional axe whereas his brother was a hard double long-axe and you could not sway him no matter how much you tried. Even so, both of them had their father's height and weren't even done growing, as one stood (Torman) at six foot two and the other at six foot five.

Honestly, it was impressive. Torman had put on literally 5 inches only in summer, and Hoag nearly 4. Their jaws began to sharpen and their eyes turned bluer by the month, not to mention the growing mentions of women.

For sure, Hoag had gone through at least two tosses in the hay, but for Torman, you didn't know. Galmar had mentioned he saw the twin chatting up to a lovely girl from one of the armor shops but hadn't seen her for a few weeks now. Poor baby, trying to get girls but failing miserably.

Recently, there had been a new kitchen staff, a cute, peaked button-nosed and rosy-cheeked Bosmer with a beaming smile and long, wavy red locks and emerald green eyes that always seemed to glimmer. Jorleif had mentioned Torman meeting her at least a few times during the morning on training breaks.

Ulfric would be banging his head against a table in Sovengarde, completely at odds with the idea of one of his sons bedding an elf, but she was a naive, gold-hearted girl. If he was still by your side, you'd be able to tell him that.

Your thumb and ring finger fiddled in your pocket, twisting the elegant band that was your ring, finding a soft lull of grief roll across your heart. 

Gods, if only he were here. To see his boys, growing up and becoming so much like him, destined to follow in your footsteps. And you... You followed Ulfric. You followed him for as long as you could, even when you couldn't see him, hear his voice, feel the soft, reassuring brush of his hand against your shoulder, or the room-filling laughter he had, rare as it was. And when his footprints were buried in the snow like your hollow heart the months after his passing, you created your own, hoping you were going on the same trail he would go, had he still been there.

You wanted so badly to call Odavhing and demand he take you back to the entry of Sovengarde- to beg the gods and the keeper of the mighty halls to let you speak to him, to describe how his very own boys were, to tell him his legacy was just beginning, and how his boys would talk about him like he had created the world. How they would ask stories when they dared, how they would ask Galmar and Jorleif, and how they would look at the old letters stashed away in the libraries of Ulfric's own making, of his own handwriting, and try their best to copy it.

How they would stare at the painting on the wall of their father, just barely a man, and just barely a Jarl. How they would knock on your door in the dead of night, knowing you were still awake for they could feel in their bones the sorrow that would come some dreadful moons, and they would comfort you the best they knew how.

"So you wish to join?" the Jarl questioned rather sharply.

"Yes, I'd like to join," you stated, raising a brow. "Is that a problem, Jarl Ulfric?"

He glanced at his housecarl. "See to it that she gets sent to the island."

"Aye," Galmar responded. 

Ulfric turned back to you, steel-like blue eyes meeting yours and sending tingles down your spine. You liked this Jarl, this man. He had spine. "Is there anything prevalent of yourself that is necessary information?"

"Yes, actually," you shifted your weight onto one foot, an unimpressed, sarcastic smile running along your lips. "I'm the Dragonborn."

There was a stiff silence.

"You know, like shouting and absorbing dragons? I do that."

"Galmar, tell her the mission," Ulfric commanded. then walked down from his throne and disappeared into one of the many doors in the Palace of Kings, as if he was about ready lose his shit but had reined himself in. As if you weren't even there.

Fair enough.

You shook your head, closing your eyes for a good while before opening them to make sure you didn't trip down two sets of stairs. 

"Dammit, Ulfric," you muttered weakly to yourself. "You should be here. You should be beside me."

Tears welled at your eyes, and you paused at the exit of the war room that led to the main hall, blinking harshly.

"But you won't ever be, will you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

TEARS

IM IN TEARS

WHY DO I WRITE THESE THINGS

;-;

part 3?

Maybe ulfric gets life again because he's a good boy and comes in with a hood so no one knows who he is and then he starts talking to the twins, but they don't know who he is so mama bear comes to the rescue along with uncle bear only to like freeze and start bawling?

tear jerker. i love the idea.

requests? delay, of course. sowwy <3

Dani out,

Adieu!